


Personal Acoustics

by heroictype (swanreaper)



Series: Not Long Enough at All [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil is a Good Husband, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, The Desert Otherworld, post-It Devours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 09:22:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17281391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanreaper/pseuds/heroictype
Summary: Time isn't real. Perception is linear. Carlos cannot measure his experiences any more than he can stop them, but he knows where to call home.





	Personal Acoustics

**Author's Note:**

> (They're both good husbands. Consider it a matter of angle of focus in this context.)
> 
> I have my doubts about the pacing of this one, because I wrote the second half first, and did so on my phone at like 4am. So the first half had to fit a particular detail. 
> 
> Still, I think it's got some solid components. I've been working on this off and on for about a week, and I just desperately needed to finish it today, because I listened to Old Oak Doors and got really emotional.

Carlos slipped his lab coat back onto its hanger. He smoothed the crease at the edge, so that it hung straight, crisp and clean. Just right.

And then he could not stand the sight of it, even there among all the others.

He did not remember, as such. It did not feel like he was doing anything, and so it would not have been scientifically accurate to use a verb. But he had this memory. There was a memory, and it just kind of came up, whether he did anything or not.

_Absent the framework provided by a distant, merciless density of gas and heat, he could not say if it had been a day. He took off his lab coat, anyway, and shook it out. It hung from his hands, crisp and clean. Just right._

_He had torn the coat on a rock earlier. It had been covered with dust, stained; he had looked down at himself and worried about the sticky, faintly acidic barbecue sauce that had splashed on him when he got too close to Doug's freshly-caught lunch._

_It was gone. So, too, was the rip. He ran the unbroken hem through his fingertips._

Standing in front of the closet, Carlos snatched up the unbroken hem of the coat, clenched his fingers in it. The fabric bunched, and, when he released his grip, it stayed wrinkled.

He stared at it, then berated himself, "Oh. Oh, darn it, of course, of course it's - That's how it works. It's science."

He tugged the coat, still on the hanger, out of the closet. Only enough to work the wrinkles over his palm, doing his best to smooth it out again.

"Bunny? What's wrong?"

Cecil was in bed already. His reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose as he looked over, which was, to use the correct scientific language, just adorable. And also, present. Cecil was present, in front of Carlos, where he could see this expression and reach out to touch his husband, if he wanted to. He did want to, actually.

But, one thing at a time. They had a routine. Carlos had to finish changing clothes. Then he could get into bed, snuggle his husband, and ultimately sleep touching each other all night. There would be so much physical contact, and he tried to use this knowledge to make himself relax.

"Um. Um, it's fine. I mean, I did think it might not be, for a minute there. But it is. Scientifically speaking - which in this case means, looking at the situation objectively - it's fine."

"Alright. Good…"

Carlos did not look at Cecil as he finished selecting his pajamas. He sorted through the drawer, through various patterns organized by subject. Cats, dogs, or pawprints. _No, not tonight._

Okay, but. Carlos could feel Cecil watching him. _Hold on. Task at hand._ Flowers or cacti. Blocks from the periodic table or molecules.

_Hmm, no. Nope._

He glanced over his shoulder, just once. Cecil was looking at his phone. Carlos was pretty sure Cecil hadn't been, a second ago, but he was now.

Carlos pulled out the bottoms that superimposed scientifically accurate images of the bone structure of flamingo legs over his own. Few humans had that many legs, so it wasn't exactly right, but the tank top had a completely accurate diagram of their whole skeletal structure. It balanced out. That would do.      _  
_

Carlos pulled the top over his head, and marched to the edge of the bed. He leaned across his side, bracing his hands on the mattress, and squinted at Cecil.

"Do not look at me like that, _and_ pretend you're not doing it. I can tell. You're worried about something. What is it?"

"Uh. You?" Cecil pushed his glasses back up, and leaned back onto the headboard. He offered an apologetic smile, which Carlos returned.

"You're sweet. But what about me? I want to work this out now, rather than hear about it tomorrow."

"Well, you're obviously tense." Cecil stuck his fingers into his own curls, and tugged at them anxiously. "I mean, I'm glad it's fine. But. I was wondering. What did you think was wrong?"

"Hmm." Carlos climbed onto the bed, and settled back onto his heels. He folded his arms over his chest. This was mainly a gesture of consideration. It was also defensive, as in, he felt vulnerable and in need of defense, rather than like he was being attacked.

"Well, I just, um. Let's see. There's a certain scientific phenomenon. Have you ever looked at a word, and the word started with a certain letter, and ended with another one, and it was about the right length as another word that starts and ends with those same letters? So you read one word, but actually, the word that's there is a different one?"

"I know what you mean. I don't know anything about the science behind it, but it sounds very interesting."

"Mmm," Carlos said. A protest. Almost a whine, which he did not like the sound of, so he cleared his throat. "Not always. Sometimes, it is difficult. Anyway, that is not what happened, but it is something like that. I thought I experienced one thing, but I experienced another."

"Okay… You don't have to tell me. And I won't say anything about it tomorrow, I promise."

"I know. I know you won't. I'm sorry for suggesting that you would, I just… We all process these things differently."

"Right. And that's okay. I guess I just worry, when, you know. You process these things alone for so long, and it doesn't really seem to help."

 _For so long._ Such unspecific language. But then, at least it was language. At least Cecil was trying. Carlos was not doing anything. He was not fixed to any particular point. He was not remembering.

Carlos gave Cecil a long, disturbingly fluid look. Deep. Distant. Again not really seeing what was in front of him, maybe, or seeing it through something that warped, shifted.

"You know? You said once that I was away from home for longer than I have known you. I understand how you were processing the available information to reach that conclusion."

He lined his hands up over one another in his lap, fingers slotted between each other perfectly, or, not quite. The spacing didn't really allow for that. The indices and pinkies were mismatched. He pressed them as flat as he could.

"But I have to tell you: you were wrong. You see, I have known you for over ten years. So, I have known you for much longer than you have known me, although we had a consistent number of interactions, and also, expressing this as 'years' may not be scientifically accurate. I've been thinking about it lately. And before lately. I've been thinking about it, um, a lot. If it isn't time, then it's experience. I have over ten years of experience with you."

Cecil drew back; not truly pulling away, just moving so that he could see more of his husband. He said, "I see. That… makes sense."

"No, not really. But you understand."

Cecil nodded.

Carlos nodded back, without answering. He shifted, and Cecil gave him time to adjust. The scientist twisted onto his side, and rested his head on his husband's lap, with an arm stretching around Cecil's back to place a hand on his hip.

Cecil touched Carlos' side, started stroking idly, but stopped when he registered that he was only one layer of clothing away from Carlos' skin.

"Is this alright?" Cecil asked.

"Yeah. Don't stop. Please."

So Cecil resumed the motion, and Carlos resumed talking.

"I've missed you for most of the time that I've known you. That's why I came back. One reason. I thought to myself, well, he's just one guy, I'll get over-"

Cecil huffed, and Carlos shushed him.

"But I never meant that thought. In those months - that time - that experience between calls, I never wanted that. I didn't want to miss you anymore, but I wanted that to be a process of our time and space matching."

Carlos rolled onto his back, and Cecil leaned over him, looking into his face. The hand that had been on Carlos' side rested now on his stomach. Carlos reached up to brush Cecil's hair back and when it would not stay behind his ear, Carlos caught a strand around his fingertip, instead.

His voice was low, a little hoarse, like he could only just scrape the words out. "I have missed you for longer than you have known me. That is true. That is what we call a fact, scientifically speaking. I missed you, Cecil. I missed light from the sun, and nighttime as a whole concept, and regular meals, if I'm being honest, which I am, possibly more than I should be. And you."

He let that curl unwind from his hand, and touched Cecil's cheek.

"Oh, Carlos." Cecil moved his husband's hand to his lips, and kissed his fingertips, one at a time. Index, and then: "Dear Carlos…"

Middle. Ring.

"Does it feel like…"

Pinky.

"You still miss these things, sometimes?" 

Tracing his lips back the way they came, shifting Carlos' hand up to kiss his thumb last. "A lot of the time, even?"

He was using his radio voice, filling the space, in the room, in between Carlos' vertebrae, even without much volume. Carlos shivered, and Cecil ran his thumb over his husband's knuckles.

"Yeah. I do.," Carlos answered. "Sorry."

Cecil squinted. "Why are you sorry?"

"They're right here. All of those things. You. So."

"I mean, yes. Just so you know. But you don't need to apologize for feeling otherwise."

"But it's so, so... unscientific." Which was not, in fact, the right word, scientifically speaking. But it was the one Carlos was most comfortable using. "I _am_ here. I understand that our sensory experiences are fragile and often misguided, but even so, that is what we have. And all of my senses tell me, I'm here, and not there. I even know why I feel like I'm there sometimes. I know how the brain works. I'm a scientist, so I know all about thinking, and it is the brain that thinks."

"You are a scientist. A very handsome one. You use your senses all the time, and I am sure it is scary, to doubt them. All of us have been scientists at one point or another, scared, doubting our senses, but you… You are a scientist all the time. So it must be difficult for you, this doubt."

Cecil slipped a hand under Carlos' back. Carlos let Cecil help him sit up, and he was glad, then, that he had gotten distracted. Without his lab coat, there was the warmth of his husband's body, right against him. It was almost overwhelming, just a shade short of it. His skin prickled, but with a sweet, nameless thing so intense that he could not doubt his surroundings.

He would want a lab coat soon. But in that moment, when he wrapped his arms around Cecil, and they exchanged heat and skin cells and the sensation of each other's heartbeat, he did not.

He closed his eyes, and made a muffled noise into Cecil's neck. This time, Cecil shushed him, and Carlos complied.

"My dearest listener… If you cannot trust your senses, then trust my words. Trust that I can feel you in my arms, that I can see you, beautiful, imperfect, present. You are home, and I am so very grateful. I would enact significant changes to the physical form of anyone who tried to change this."

Carlos laughed, and Cecil twitched as his husband's breath tickled on his neck. The scientist murmured, "Really, now?"

"Oh, yes," Cecil answered gravely. "But I do not think anyone is going to try. So. You're here. You are safe now. That's all. All that matters."

Carlos lifted his head, and pressed a sequence of short, firm kisses to Cecil's jawline. "Ceec. You have such convincing acoustics, scientifically speaking."

Cecil's face flushed. "Well, I had better. You know."

Carlos placed both hands against Cecil's face, holding him without applying any force. "Oh, no. It's different. Hearing you like this. These are personal acoustics. But really, it's you, more than it is the acoustics. I trust you. You don't always know what to say, but it would be kind of bizarre if you did."

He kissed his husband again, once, slower. "And when you know, you really know."

"Well… I know you, don't I?" Cecil said, sounding maybe half a lungful away from breathless. "Why don't you finish getting ready for bed?"

"Mhmm. Just a minute."

"Turn the lights out while you're up?"

"Sure, babe."

It didn't take long. Carlos pulled on his sleep-lab coat, and flipped off the light. In that instant of absolute darkness, before his pupils dilated in the thin moonlight, he was disoriented. This was normal. This was human. And. And he then he could see enough to make out Cecil's expression, now anticipatory, with his glasses now left folded on the side table. Carlos could reach out to touch his husband, if he wanted to. He did want to.

They slept touching each other all night.  


End file.
